Before I Let Go (Skyland, #1)

by Kennedy Ryan

And the simmering affection shining from Vashti’s eyes tells me she wants my husband. Ex-husband.

I’m not even sure Deja has heard this old R & B classic before, but she takes to it like it’s BTS’s latest hit.

She’s as beautiful as the day we first met. She’s changing, aging, but to me, only getting better. Like God looked at the feline flare of her cheekbones and the tempting pout of her mouth, the sultry dark eyes flecked with gold and said, You think she looks good now? I’m just getting started.

Grief is a grind. It is the work of breathing and waking and rising and moving through a world that feels emptier. A gaping hole has been torn into your existence, and everyone around you just walks right past it like it’s not even there.

It’s ironic that he remembers me sacrificing my soda and I remembered it being him. I wonder if that’s true of everything and the truth hides somewhere between what we each remember? Reshaping our memories to be what we thought they should. Did I make it better than it was? Did I ever make it worse?

“What the hell do you mean, there isn’t another room?”

Tesla

Ew

No, I probably never got over that man, but I’ve fallen in love all over again with the Josiah who shepherds our children through hard times, always checking their hearts to make sure they’re okay. I’m in love with the man who, despite his misgivings, ventured into therapy for our son, but then learned to use it to heal himself. I’m enamored with the passion that burns even brighter between us than it did before. When we make love, the past and present collide in a scorching intimacy that consumes us. The man he was, the man he is,

the way he’ll mature and evolve as the years go on—I’m in love with every version of Josiah I’ve ever known, and I’m certain the man he’ll become will also hold my heart.

“Well, they…they asked if we’re exclusive, and I—” “Do you want to be?”

I force myself to look at him, jaw tensed, teeth clenched. It’s a risk, confessing even this

secret of my heart when I’m holding so much else in reserve, but if this is my second chance, if it can become our second chance, then I’ll take a chance. “Yes,” I breathe the word out, braced for whatever he says in response. “I do too.” H...

“Just wondering,” he says, dragging a suitcase in behind him and into the kitchen. “If your offer still stands.” “Yeah,” I croak out. “You mean my offer to…that if you want…we can…you could—” “Come home,” he says, saving me from babbling for another twelve seconds.

People don’t often get second chances like this, Yas.” “There’s a part of me that keeps thinking I don’t deserve it,” I confess. “Did we deserve all the shit that happened to us? The things and the people we lost? I’ve learned that life isn’t about taking what you deserve, it’s about getting all you can while you can because it’s short. Because it’s fickle. Because it takes when we least expect it. Now everything I’ve lost makes me cherish the things I have, instead of always being afraid I’ll lose them.”